


Going once

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Bucky buys Steve on an impulse, Bucky is awkward as fuck, Charity Auctions, Complete, First Date, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, and Steve can't figure out what the hell Bucky wants from him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:16:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve knew he wasn’t much to look at. It didn't do anyone any good to lie to himself about that. He stood barely more than five foot. His features were gaunt, and drawn, and he was the fucking ribbiest creature to ever hobble to face of the earth. But sure, why not? Who wouldn’t want to buy an anemic, scoliosis-ridden punk with aggression issues?</p><p>Suddenly, a call echoed out from somewhere in the room, way too loud, and way too eager. “Four hundred!” </p><p>Heads turned and Bucky’s cheeks flamed scarlet as he realized that the words had come from him. What the fucking hell did he think he was doing? Had he lost his goddamn mind? Had he taken one look at the gorgeous guy on stage and flipped his freakin’ lid?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"C’mon Steve, it’ll be fun,"

 

"I think the word you’re looking for is _humiliating_ …"

 

"It’s for a good cause,"

 

"Sam- Sam! I-"

 

"It’s for _charity_ , St. Jude’s. C’mon man, have a heart."

 

Steve felt his cheeks flush scarlet. He’d lost, and judging by the grin on his best friend’s face, Sam knew it too. Sam was all smooth talk and easy charisma, and with a smile like his he was a difficult person to turn down. If he wanted Steve to participate in this… _human auction_ …he’d damn we’ll be _certain_ he got what he wanted.

 

Steve reached up, bone-thin fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. In no way could this _possibly_ be a good idea. “Sam,” he started, “C’mon, someone’d have to be a goddamn _moron_ t’be waste’n their money on me.”

 

The moment the words passed his lips, his friend's easy smile, dropped. His brow drew tight, dark eyes flashing with stubbornness. “Ain’t _nothin’_ wrong with you man. Anyone who thinks different can take it up with me, you hear?” He pressed, reaching out to grip Steve’s knobby shoulder. The heaviness of the gesture rocked Steve back by several inches, but he moved with it easily. It was comforting that Sam didn't treat him like he was going to break.

 

At his friend's reassuring words, a bitter, self-depreciating smile tugged at Steve’s lips. Sam meant well, but Steve had spent enough years looking at himself in the mirror to know it wasn't true. He wasn’t much to look at. It didn't do anyone any good to lie to himself about that. Steve had been a frail, sickly child, and now, twenty-three years later, he was a frail, sickly adult. He stood barely more than five foot. His features were gaunt, and drawn, and he was the fucking ribbiest creature to ever hobble to face of the earth. But _sure_ , why not? Who _wouldn’t_ want to buy an anemic, scoliosis-ridden punk with aggression issues?

 

"Fine," The blond conceded, already feeling a sense of regret coiling in the pit of his stomach. "But I swear Wilson, if I look like a idiot up there, I’m holding you _personally_ responsible. Also, you’d better fuckin’ buy me if no one’s bidding…"

 

Steve’s peeved growl elicited a deep, warm laugh from Sam. It was the kind of laugh that could just about melt butter. Even when Steve was feeling like a pissy wet cat, Sam’s laugh managed to shake his bitterness, if only for a moment. “A’right,” he laughed, dropping a hand heavily on Steve’s narrow shoulder and dragging him towards the stage. “A’right, I promise, scouts honor, just _get up there_.”

 

-.-

 

Number 32. Bucky turned the paddle over in his hand, staring down at it with a look of mild disinterest. He had no intention of bidding, but his friend Natasha had ribbed him in to at least entering. It was worth the few dollars for the paddle though. It was going to a good cause, and Bucky figured he just might get a laugh out of the whole affair anyways.

 

-.-

 

Steve wasn’t sure if it was comforting to be surrounded by familiar faces, or embarrassing. The men grouped by the side of the stage, were almost all friends and acquaintances. Tony Stark stood near the front of the line with his hair spiked back, beard smartly trimmed, aviators concealing his eye. The man practically _oozed_ charisma. He was handsome, rich, and _excessively_ popular. The auctioneer would have no trouble locating a buyer…or maybe seven…

 

Not far from were he stood, Steve cause sight of Bruce Banner. Bruce lacked Tony’s flashy sex appeal, but Steve knew he wouldn’t be a hard sell either. Bruce was brilliant; he was warm, and genuine with a hidden vein of sarcasm and humor. He was the kind of man anyone would be happy to buy for the day.

 

Clint Barton would be snapped up immediately of course, if not by his girlfriend Natasha, then by someone else. And why wouldn’t they? Clint was solid, and muscular. He was acrobatic, with a great sense of humor, and just enough awkwardness to make him _irresistibly_ endearing. And then there was Thor.

 

Thor Odinson stood an impressive six foot six, and was built like a freakin’ god. His soft, golden blond hair was pulled back from where it usually hung around his shoulders in waves, tied neatly at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.  He seemed to glow with vitality. It would be easy to dislike Thor, if it wasn’t for that fact that he wasn’t just a dumb, pretty brute. Thor was intelligent, but more than that, he was _unfalteringly_ kind. He treated everyone, regardless of who they were with dignity, and respect. He was…annoyingly wholesome really. People were going to be crawling over themselves to take him home.

 

And of course, that left Steve.

 

A huff of irritations escaped his lips, and he mussed his fingers through his floppy blond bangs. Being surrounded by his (arguable more attractive) peers was definitely more humiliating than comforting. Still, his name was on the paper now. If he somehow got through this with his dignity in tact, Steve assured himself he was going to find some was to repay Sam for the embarrassment.

 

Feedback crackled through the microphone for a moment before Maria Hill silenced it. “Good afternoon,” She greeted the group with a thin, mysterious smile. “I’m glad to see all of you here, and we’ve got a great cause that we’re working towards here so lets not waste any time, shall we? You all know how these things work. You bid on whoever you’d like to buy, highest bidder win. If you win, the gentleman is at your beck and call for eight hours, and if it’s legal, it’s on the table.” A murmur of general amusement and speculation rippled through the room. Maria cast a quick glance at the cluster of men by the stage, her lips tugged into a faint smirk. They all stood waiting, all displaying various degrees of either excitement, or nervousness. Turning her gaze back to the assembled crowd, Maria raise a hand towards the group of men. “Alright, let’s have our first participant.”

 

-.-

 

Steve watched in outright dread as the line snaked shorter, and shorter. The crowd was good-natured and generous. Most of the bids fell between one, and five hundred dollars. Steve’s assumption that Thor would be a popular candidate was spot on. The moment he stepped on to the stage, beaming warmly, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, the audience went wild. Paddled rose all over the room, the more forward members of the audience shouting their bids to ensure their place in the running. The final price caped out at seven hundred and fifty six dollars, beating the previous record, held by tony, by over a hundred and fifty dollars.

 

Steve was happy for him, he really was. Thor looked pleased, and flattered by the attention. He ducked his head, grinning boyishly as he strode off the stage to offer his arm to the lady who’d purchased him. Only now, it was _his_ turn to step onto the stage, and with an opening act like Thor, Steve knew he didn’t stand a chance.

 

-.-

 

He felt absolutely naked, and not in the literal sense like Tony, who had started stripping on stage. Still, somehow, having every eye in the room glued on him was almost worse.

 

Steve’s gaze flitted across the crowd. Maria plied the audience with snippets about his art and personality, hopping to stir up interest before she commenced the bidding. A flash of white teeth drew Steve's attention to Sam, who was nudging the girl beside him with a gesture towards the stage. She followed his gaze, taking in Steve with a polite smile before glancing back to her phone. Obviously he couldn’t expect any help from that corner.

 

Steve had just resolved that he was going to kill Sam for getting him into this when Maria raised her voice, drawing the audience’s attention like a magnet. “Alright, we will start the bidding off at twenty five dollars, lets hear it!”

 

What they heard was uncomfortable, albitit apologetic silence.

 

-.-

 

Bucky, eyes still lowered to the paddle in his hands, suddenly became aware of the awkward silence that had befallen the room. _'Man, wouldn't want to be that poor sap…'_ The brunet smirk, shaking his head, before lifting his eyes to the stage and-

_Holy shit._

 

Bucky was right, he wouldn’t want to _be_ ‘that poor sap’ but he’d be damned if he didn’t _want_ him.

 

_God. Holy shit- holy fucking shit!_

 

The blond haired man on the state was easily the most gorgeous person he’d ever laid eyes on. He was small, and willowy, with flushed pink lips and slender, artistic fingers. Even from a distance, Bucky could see the delicate set of his features, the self-depreciating smirk that lingered just at the corners of his perfect lips. _God_ … Bucky could just imagine how he would look up close, his razor cheek bones faintly flushed, the ends of his golden blond hair just kissing his brow.

Unbidden, the image of the young man’s rosy lips touching his flooded his mind. Bucky could almost feel them, soft, and ever so slightly chapped, pressing delicately against his mouth; sweet like apples… And for a precious moment, Bucky allowed himself to get lost in his imagination.

 

-.-

 

True to his word, after an agonizing minute of silence, Sam came to his rescue. Paddle number fourteen lifted into air, and Maria’s faltering smile solidified. At this point, Steve figured they’d been willing to pawn him off for a stick of gum just to get him off the fucking stage.

 

"I got fifty dollars," Sam called, tipping his wallet with a grin.

 

-.-

 

Suddenly, a call echoed out from somewhere in the room, _way_ too loud, and _way_ too eager. “ _Four hundred_!”

 

Any chatter in the room abruptly died away. The silence was even more complete than before, and Bucky’s cheeks flamed scarlet as he realized that the words had come from _him_. What the _fucking hell_ did he think he was doing? Had he lost his goddamn mind? Had he taken one look at the gorgeous guy on stage and flipped his freakin’ lid?

 

-.-

 

Steve’s stomach took a swan dive. If it had been any quieter, he would have thought he’d gone completely deaf. Maybe he’d just misheard, but Sam, mouth frozen open, cash already in hand, was proof enough that he hadn’t. Steve couldn’t even see the speaker. He’d been so blocked in in a haze of embarrassment and shame that he hadn’t even registered what the voice had sounded like. _Hell_ , he didn’t even know if his buyer was a man or a woman. But apparently, Maria knew well enough.

 

The dark haired woman paused for just a moment, before slipping easily back into her roll. “Well then, going once-“

 

No one moved.

 

"Going twice-"

 

 _‘Fucking hell Sam, BID’_.

 

" _Sold_ , to number 32."

 

The gavel came down on the podium with a crack and Steve’s already unsettled stomach swooped sickly. Whoever the hell was holding number 32 now owned him for the next eight hours.

 

-.- 

 

Bucky’s face was burning. He had no idea what you were even supposed to do with someone once you bought them at this kind of thing. Were you supposed to go on a date? Ask’um to clean out your gutters? Gray eyes flickered feverishly around the room, trying to catch sight of the other participants and their new owners. Just _maybe_ , a look into their dynamic would help him figure out what the hell to do.

 

Thor stood beside a very small woman with red hair, speaking to her with the ease of an old friend. It looked as thought they would be going back to her place. He imagined them laying on her couch, watching romantic comedies and drink wine while Thor gave her a back massage that she’d remember for the rest of her life. Not far off, Tony was already whispering in the ear of a sultry looking brunet. It seemed _their_ eight hours would be a _lot_ less tame. Bruce, it seemed, had been bought by a fan. He stood facing a young man with mousy brown hair. The two were already deeply engaged in a convoluted scientific discussion. Judging by the stooped old woman on Clint’s arm, he would be doing yard work.

 

Bucky swallowed, not feeling any less lost. The stunning blond had already left the stage, making his way in the direction the auctioneer hand pointed. He was heading directly towards him, and Bucky had no fucking clue what he was going to do when he got here.

 

-.-

 

Steve slipped off the stage, relief at being out of the public’s eye warring with nervousness in the pit of his stomach. _Sam_ he could have lived with. He would have had him do something absolutely ridiculous just for kicks, but he could have lived with it. But Sam hadn’t bought him had he? No. Steve had been bought by an absolute stranger. The thought made him feel a little bit queasy.

 

The young man’s blue eyes raked the audience, focusing on, and dismissing the numbers on the paddles as he searched for his buyer. “Thrity two…” He murmured under his breath. “Number thirty- _fuckin’_ -two, I swear to god if you turn out to be a creep I’ll-“ What Steve would have was suddenly forgotten. Number thirty two. Steve lifted his gaze, taking his first glance at the person who’d bothered to pay four hundred dollars for him. 

 

Embarrassment and shame coiled, hot, and heavy, in the pit of his stomach. The guy was a fuckin’ _Adonis_. He was _gorgeous_! Thick, chestnut hair was tousled casually over his forehead, a few strands framing his strong jawline. His lips were full and _blood_ red, resting in a nervous frown as steel gray eyes swept the crowd. Steve felt his stomach give a nervous twist. What did a guy like _this_ want with a guy like _him_? People seldom showed interest in him. The only attention Steve was used to receiving was from guys who seemed to get a thrill out of the fact that he looked like some under aged twink. Call him picky, but those weren’t the kind of guys he wanted to involve himself with. What were the chances that a guy who looked like he could have _anyone_ he wanted could be even remotely interested in _him_.

 

Steve steeled his nerves. Whatever this guy threw at him, he could handle, and if he couldn’t keep his fingers to himself, Steve’d break them.

 

Dragging a breath through his teeth, Steve lifted his chin, striding purposely in his direction. The brunet turned, coming to face him just as Steve closed the last few feet between them.

 

Bucky startled, blinking in shock as he suddenly came face to face with the beautiful blond from the stage. He could feel himself staring, but he couldn’t seem to gather his wits enough to stop. Bucky was overwhelmed, suddenly painfully aware of every gorgeous, golden freckle that dotted Steve’s nose. Suddenly all he could see was the delicate fan of his long, dark lashes, the way they kisses his cheeks when he blinked…the way his baby blue eyes flashed at the sudden closeness.

Bucky abruptly straightened, realizing he’d been in the young man’s personal space for a moment longer than he should have.

"Thirty two?" The blond asked. His tone was neutral, but there was an underlying bite, a warning. Others may have missed it, but not Bucky, Bucky could read it clear as day. Steve was guarded, and cold. He may as well have been flashing a neon ‘hands off’ sign, and Bucky could tell because the warning was meant _exclusively_ for him.

 

Nonetheless, the brunet adopted an easy smile, dimples forming at the corners of his lips. “That’s me, and you’re Steve right?”

 

Steve’s mouth tugged, but the smile didn’t reach much further than that. “Yeah. Steve Rogers _. At your service_.”

 

Bucky couldn’t help but note the edge in his tone. Steve was _gorgeous_ , he was the kind of guy Bucky could stare at forever without getting bored, but his demeanor was guarded. Steve had concrete walls up a mile high, and Bucky had _no_ idea how to even _begin_ breaking them down. He’d bid on Steve on an impulse, a wild, crazy impulse, because there was something in him…something fiery, and so completely _alive_. There was something in Steve that boiled just under the surface that Bucky _had_ to decode, and that was just what he’d glimpsed from the stage. Seeing him closer now, Bucky wanted to find out what lurked behind his pretty, pointed features, what made Steve tick. He wanted to figure out why his eyes flashed with warning at every movement, why his smiles looked more like a warning then an expression of happiness. He wanted…he wanted to figure out how to make Steve smile for real…

 

Pausing hesitantly, Bucky extended a hand. “Bucky Barnes.” He greeted, his easy, cocky smile softening.

 

Steve gripped his hand, boney finger’s clasping around his in a surprisingly strong grip. “Bucky.” He repeated, trying out the way his name rolled off his tongue, before giving a curt nod. “Alright Buck. You got plans for me?”

 

"None whatsoever." Bucky teased, flashing him a grin. "But, we’ve got eight hour so-" he tipped his head toward the door. "Wanna get outta here?"

 

Boney shoulder’s squared, and Steve’s narrow chest expanded as he drug in a deep breath through his nose. He held the breath for half a beat before tipping a non-committal shrug. “You’re the boss.” He said, but the dangerous flash in his clear blue eyes was anything but submissive.


	2. Chapter 2

(Sent: 1:07 PM)

**"Hey man, you alright?"**

(Sent: 1:15 PM)

**"Yeah."**

(Sent: 1:17 PM)

**"Uh oh, I know that ‘yeah,’ you’re steamed aren’tcha?"**

(Sent: 1:22 PM)

**"I’m not mad, I’m just stuck in a car with a complete stranger going who the fuck knows where, so, y’know, no worries."**

**"Chances are I’m just gonna get stabbed and tossed in a ditch anyways. Don’t wait up."**

(Sent: 1:23 PM)

**"Look, Steve, if you really think things are going south, _CALL ME_. Don’t wait till it looks ugly."**

(Sent: 1:26 PM)

**"I will gtg"**

(Sent: 1:26 PM)

**"Steve?"**

(Sent: 1:27 PM)

**"Steve?"**

-.-

Gravel crunched under the tires of the car as it rolled into the driveway of a moderate, comfortable house. It looked a little shabby around the edges and a little lived-in, but not dumpy. Despite a little weathering on the paint, and a slight buckle in the front step, Bucky’s home looked perfectly…normal. Steve wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. He couldn’t get a read on Bucky, so his imagination had, admittedly, run away with him. He had imagined maybe a white-picket-fence type place or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, a trashy apartment complex, the kind if place that might rent out to drug addicts and sex offenders. To his surprise though, it actually liked quite…homey.

Bucky’s gaze flickered fleetingly over to Steve, trying to gauge his reaction to their destination. They had spoken very little on the fifteen-minute drive. Steve’s walls were as thick as lead, and just as sturdy, and he wasn’t letting Bucky through for all the money in the world. Still, Bucky searched Steve’s expression desperately for _any_ kind of approval. He hadn’t been planning on participating in the auction, much less _buying_ someone. He had no plan, no direction. The only thing he had in mind was seeing if he could, somehow, get Steve to soften enough to get to know him.

Steve had stuffed his phone away and was peering through the windshield up at the house. He squinted against the sunlight, his sharp, freckled nose wrinkling in a manner so adorable that Bucky found himself stifling a soft whine. The skinny young man in the passengers seat reminded Bucky suddenly of a very tiny hedgehog: irresistibly adorable, and prickly as fuck.

Bucky undid his seat belt with a soft click, before popping the driver’s side door. “My place,” he explained unnecessarily, making a vague gesture towards the house. “Hope y’don’t mind, I uh- I couldn’t think of anywhere else.”

"S’fine."

Bucky wonder if he was ever going to get anything genuine out of Steve. He was so suspicious, and so guarded that everything he did was met with a cold skepticism. For the first time, it occurred to Bucky that maybe Steve’s bitterness and aggression was out of _fear_. Maybe he used his sarcasm and barbed, passive aggressive comments to conceal the fact that he was actually… _afraid_ … The thought made Bucky’s stomach tighten uncomfortably, and he noted that he’d have to be extremely carful in how he handled Steve.

The two men exited the car, approaching the house in mutual silence. On the top step, Bucky paused, fumbling for a few moments before he managed to get the front door open, leading Steve inside.

The interior of the house was true to the form of the exterior. It was a little distressed, and a little worn, but everything was clean, and comfortable. The front door opened into the kitchen, the living room visible through a wide doorframe to their right. Off to side, a staircase framed the side of a hallway leading a little deeper into the house.

Kicking of his shoes casually by the door, Bucky strolled into his living room. “Make yerself at home,” he drawled, smirking casually as he dropped down on the couch, arms resting on the back, feet crossed at the ankles. “C’mon an sid’down”

Bucky’s confidence, his bravado, _a bluff_ , every bit of it. He was faking his way through with an easily flirtatious air to cover for the fact that he was actually awkward as fuck. He had _no idea_ what he was supposed to do, or how he was supposed to talk to him and it was all made worse by the fact that Bucky was crushing on Steve so hard it made his head spin.

At Bucky’s invitation, Steve politely toed his shoes off at the door. He hesitated for a moment before shifting off his loose fitting jacket, and hanging it neatly on one of the hooks. The air very nearly left Bucky’s lungs. Beneath the rather unflattering beige jacket, Steve was wearing a black t-shirt that might have been called plain if it didn’t accentuate the soft lines of his body so perfectly. It fit beautifully across his narrow, boney shoulders, tracing the line of his chest and following it all the way down to the narrow taper of his waist.

Bucky tore his gaze away, flushing hotly as Steve smoothed the front of his shirt before drifting into the living room. His clear blue eyes flickered to Bucky, before he eyed the couch dubiously.

"Y’gonna sit?" Bucky asked, clearing his throat awkwardly as he tried to keep himself from staring.

Steve made a small sound in the back of his throat, rocking on the balls of his feet. He was poised like a bird, ready to fly away at the slightest sense of trouble. “Uh- been sittin’ down for a while, I might-”

"I ain’t gonna touch ya."

Steve flushed scarlet. He didn’t need to say a word for Bucky to know that that had been _exactly_ what he had been worried about. Too proud to remain standing, Steve sunk down onto the couch, purposely leaving a whole cushion’s span between the two of them.

The tip of Bucky’s tongue peeked out, wetting his lower lip nervously as he stole a glance over at Steve. He sat beside him, straight backed, and ridged, his cold blue eyes focused dead ahead. At least thing couldn’t possibly get much worse from here.

"So, that auction-" he started, inwardly cringing. The words sounded stilted, and awkward, and Bucky flushed up, trying to stammer out something that wouldn’t make him sound like a _total_ idiot. "You volunteer, or someone talk y’into it?"

Steve’s gaze slid over to him and Bucky subconsciously drew himself smaller. He lowered his arms off the back, shifting to sit properly rather than sprawling out all over the couch. “Talked into it.” Steve responded, his gaze dropping to his lap.

"Oh yeah?" Fuckin’ shit he sounded like an idiot _-oh yeah_ \- smooth Barnes, you should write that one down, it’d be sure to make all the dames swoon.

If there was such a thing as luck, it seemed to be in his favor at just that moment, because Steve didn’t seem to notice. “Yeah, I got dragged into it by my room mate, Sam.” He responded, and for a brief second, Steve’s expression actually softened.

Bucky felt his stomach give a sick little twist. “Oh…so, you and Sam, you’re…”

" _Friends_."

The answer was short, and definitive, but Steve’s expression had closed again. His gaze lit with suspicion, eyes raking Bucky’s form for any hint of a threatening movement. He’d blown it. He’d been too forward. _Fuck_. Bucky didn’t even know if Steve was _in to_ guys, much less if he had a partner, or if he could even _begin_ to be attracted to Bucky in to first place! And now, Steve thought he was prying into his sexuality. He probably thought he was some kind of fucking sick predator, using a charity auction as an excuse to get Steve to do what he wanted. Any attempt to disprove that fell flat. Assuring Steve that he wasn’t going to touch him only seemed to make him more wary. A prompt that Bucky had hoped would discreetly answer the question of Steve’s sexuality had came out as blatant, and insulting. _God_ \- fucking hell, Steve must hate him. He was clearly freaked out, and everything Bucky did to try and fix that only ended up making it worse.

The brunet stood abruptly, the sudden movement startling Steve. The younger man flinched, his eyes widening as fingers clenched into the cover of the couch.

Bucky tugged his fingers feverishly through his hair before wheeling to face him. “It’s hot-” He blurted and his stomach gave an anxious twist as Steve eased cautiously to his feet. His eyes were alight with fear, gaze darting nervously towards the door. “I-in here.” Bucky amended, stumbling over his words as he backed towards the kitchen. “It’s…hot…in here…Y’wanna have a drink? I- I mean- _shit_! Do you _want_ a drink? Like, water or- _shit_ \- I-I think I have-” Bucky’s hip glanced painfully off the doorway. “ _Fucking!_ \- juice- I- I think I have- oh… _fucking shit_ …” He whispered, turning and fleeing into the kitchen, leaving Steve, alarmed, and confused, in the living room.

-.-

A coward. That’s what he was. A fucking coward. He was hiding in the kitchen, flushed red from his chest to his hairline, hiding from the gorgeous guy that he had brought into his home…the gorgeous guy who though he was off his freaking head…the gorgeous guy who probably hated him.

Bucky drew in a deep, slow breath. He had seven hours left with Steve. Seven hours, and Bucky had no idea if he could undo all the damage, make it up to him, and somehow get Steve to open up to him even just a _tiny_ bit in that short amount of time. Frankly, Bucky wasn’t sure if he could go that long without saying something so fucking stupid that Steve walked out on him; eight-hour obligation be damned. But he couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever. He couldn’t afford it.

Bucky eased slowly away from the wall, keeping his movements controlled as he stepped over to the cupboard. He moved quietly, listening for any sound from the living room and he took two glasses down from the shelf. Silence met his ears. Either Steve hadn’t moved, or he’d slipped out so quietly that Bucky had missed him.

Suddenly a lot more anxious, Bucky took the pitcher of water from the refrigerator, pouring two glasses full with shaking hands. He replaced the pitcher, lifting the two glasses from the counter as he steeled his nerves. If Steve was gone then that was it. He’d fucked it up, end of story. If he was still there, Bucky had to find a way to get Steve to not hate him anymore. Bracing himself for the worst, Bucky turned the corner.

Steve sat on the edge of the couch, gaze flitting nervously, hands pressed into his lap. He looked so sweet, and so small, that for a moment, Bucky forgot to be nervous. Then Steve spotted him, fixing him with a wary stare, and his knees turned to jello. It turned out, Steve had an uncanny talent for robbing Bucky of his fine motor skills.

He tipped his chin towards the two glasses of clear, cold water. “Thirsty?” Bucky asked, desperately trying to seem cool, and collected, rather than seeming like a person who had just hid in the kitchen because his crush hated him.

Steve eyed the glass, for a moment, suspicious, before he granted him a small nod. His mouth felt like cotton, and as far as the potential for being drugged, Steve was giving Bucky the benefit of the doubt. “Yeah. Okay.”

Bucky visibly relaxed, forcing his movements to be easy, and casual, as he strolled towards him, extending one of the glasses. Steve reached up a boney hand to receive it, and Bucky’s fingers slid. The glass slipped from his grip. Water soaked the front of Steve’s jeans, and the glass hit the carpet with a muted _thump_.

" _Fuck_!" Bucky’s face washed a shade paler, and he dropped to his knees, the other glass sloshing as he placed it blindly on the table. "Oh god, fuck- _fuck_ \- I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ Steve," Bucky swiped a thin blanket off the floor, pressing it against Steve’s lap, his hands moving feverishly over his slender thighs. "I didn’t mean t- I- hang on, I’ll get something you can wear I-"

"Bucky _stop_!" Steve lunged to his feet, his stomach churning, his skin burning with embarrassment and shame. He abruptly shoved past him; water still running off his jeans as he stumbled towards the door.

"Steve wait!" Bucky protested, scrambling to his feet, the wet blanket catching around his ankles. He staggered, kicking his feet free before lunging into the kitchen. Steve was flushed crimson, his expression twisted with disgust as he wrestled with his jacket, trying to yank it on over his arms. Maybe Bucky was wrong, but beneath the expression of disgust and revulsion, something in Steve’s eyes looked distinctly sad. " _Steve_ ," Bucky pleaded again, drawing level with him. "Please- wait Steve, I’m sorry-"

" _I’m not gonna let you touch me_." Steve snapped viciously, his phone out, halfway through texting Sam already.

"I wasn-"

" _Convenient_." Steve spat. "Gettin’ soaked was a little _too fucking convenient_. I’m _not_ gonna wear any of your cloths, and I’m _not_ gonna let you put your fucking hands on me!"

"I didn’t- I- it was an accident- Steve-"

"Why did you bid on me?" The blond demanded suddenly, his mouth twisted in a bitter sneer.

Bucky drew back, blinking rapidly as he tried to process the demand. “What-”

" _Why_ did you _bid_ on me?" Steve pressed again, "you saw me up there and you bid on me, _why_? What did you want with me?"

Bucky set his teeth, shaking his head rapidly. “I- I- Steve- You- You were _gorgeous_  and I  _panicked_!” The brunet blurted, his cheeks coloring, gaze fixed on Steve. “I saw you up there and I- I had to- I had to talk to you at least! I wa- you- you were-  _god_  Steve you were just so  _damn_  pretty! I- I  _liked_  you, okay?” Bucky said stepping forward earnestly. “I…liked you…I…wanted to see you…”

Steve stared, confused, and skeptical, his boney shoulders drawn back against the door. But his fingers had stilled on the keypad of his phone.

Bucky drew in a shaky breath. Steve was allowing him a moment to redeem himself, and this really was the only shot he had left. “Ever since you walked up to me after the auction, I’ve been nervous as shit.” Bucky admitted, managing a shy half-smile. “I uh…I tried to bluff my way through it so you wouldn’t think I was an idiot, and uh…I fucked everything up, and you just ended up thinking I was a pervert instead…but I swear to god, Steve, it was an accident! Every single thing I said today has been all messed up cause,  _god_ \- I’m just- something about you gets me so flustered I can think, and I say dumb shit, and I get distracted, and…drop water all over the place…” Bucky ducked his head before suddenly glancing back up, his expression laced with desperate honesty. “I didn’t mean to touch y’Steve, I swear, I just- I didn’t think-  _I won’t_. I _promise_  I won’t. Ever again, okay? I ever touch y’again and you can break my hand, alright? Promise. Just shatter it, it’d serve me right, but… _don’t go_ …not before I have a chance to make this up to you.”

Steve stared at him, dumbstruck and silent, because Bucky sounded completely honest, but it  _couldn’t_  be true. Steve wanted to believe him, he was beginning to despite himself, but it just wasn’t possible. Someone as gorgeous as Bucky…He  _couldn’t_  want him… He couldn’t  _like_  him, why did he like  _him_? 

Bucky bit down, his lower lip caught between his teeth. The blond’s face was flickering with uncertainty, although, thank heavens, the look of poisonous disgust had faded. Bucky could swear Steve could hear his heart pounding from were he stood, and he swallowed, parting his lips uncertainly. “I ain’t aim’n to hurt you Steve.” He pressed, his voice low, and soft as his gaze dropped to the floor. “But, if y’wanna go, m’not gonna stop you.”

Slowly, the suspicious drained out of Steve’s expression, leaving him looking stunned, and a more than a little confused. He eased away from the door, glancing just once more at his phone before locking it, and slipping it into his pocket. There was nothing in Steve that understood Bucky Barnes, but despite his better judgment, he was beginning to believe him.  The slender blond tipped up his chin, fixing Bucky with the first non-hostile stare he’d ever received from him. “Deal’s a deal,” Steve said quietly. “You’ve got me for eight hours, no less.”

"Seven, actually." Bucky corrected, "It’s been an hour since we left the charity event already, but I get what you mean."

Steve’s gaze dropped, the ghost of a smile touching the corners of his mouth, and Bucky felt his chest warm with pleasure. Steve was going to stay. Bucky had another chance to make this right after all. And the best part? Steve knew explicitly now that Bucky liked him, and he hadn’t shot him down. Bucky knew it wasn’t a  _yes_ , far from it, but he  _knew_ , and he seemed… _okay_ …Steve was okay with the fact that Bucky like him! Maybe this day didn’t have to be a total disaster after all. 

Shuffling awkwardly at the door, Bucky glanced down, his eyes momentarily lighting on the dark wet patch that was still seeping all down the front of Steve’s jean. His cheeks flushed a dull pink, and he cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “So uh…y’wanna pair of sweats? We can throw yer stuff in the dryer, it’d be done before dinner.” Bucky offered awkwardly. Steve had coldly rejected the offer earlier, but that had been when he’d been scared, and deeply suspicious of Bucky’s motives. He hoped they’d moved beyond that point.

Steve’s teeth worried absently at the swell of his lower lip. The water had soaked through his pants and boxers, going uncomfortably luke-warm against his hot flesh. The wet fabric, clung to his skin, and Bucky’s offer was beginning to look more attractive by the second. ‘Yeah, sure…that’d be nice…thanks…” Steve murmured, still not certain he’d gotten his feelings about this situation straightened out. He  _thought_  he believed Bucky…He seemed to be being honest no matter how unbelievable it was that he liked him. Steve wasn’t certain he  _trusted_  Bucky yet, but now, he was at least willing to give him a chance. 

"Kay," Bucky responded shortly, blinking before stepping back a pace to give Steve some room. "I’ll be right back, just…hang on." giving him a quick, albeit sheepish smile, Bucky turned, ducking down the hallway. He was gone for only a minute or so, before returning with a pair of dark blue sweatpants over his arm. "Here y’go Steve," He murmured, shuffling them over to him. "Bathroom’s just down the hall."

Steve received the folded article, with a small, jerky nod. “Thanks Buck…” 

As Steve slipped past him to go change, Bucky’s gaze followed after him, lingering on his slender figure before he disappeared around the corner. Butterflies leapt in the pit of his stomach, fluttering madly as warmth tingled all the way down to his toes. Bucky swallowed back a stupid smile, busying himself with cleaning up the rest of the water spill. He was done for. Crushing so hard he couldn’t think straight. Totally, completely,  _idiotically_  gone for the prickly little artist with the golden blond hair. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh! I'm kind of actually a little stunned at all of the response and impute I got for this story. I plan on incorporating more of you guys' suggestions in the next couple chapters, but if you think of anything else you'd like to see drop a comment. It's really motivating to me to see that you all are interested. <3


	3. Chapter 3

When Steve slipped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, extra length of the sweatpants pooling around his feet, Bucky couldn’t help but let slip a low chuckle. Steve silenced him with a cold look, but it lacked the sharp edge of before. He seemed more comically annoyed at Bucky’s snickering then anything. Still, Bucky managed to shut up before he did something stupid again, and turned back to where he was prepping dinner.

It was early yet, but having something to do with his hands helped Bucky keep his thoughts organized. He washed and cubed potatoes nice and slow, cutting up onions, celery, and carrots before adding them to a large pot of chicken stock. It wasn’t long before Steve volunteered his help, idly cutting up small chunks of chicken while Bucky stammered and fumbled through awkward pieces of conversation. 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, there was something endearing about Bucky. He seemed…sweet. He was open, and enthusiastic, often times getting ahead of himself and tripping over his words when he said something dumb. Steve discovered that Bucky had recently finished a four-year term in the military, having enlisted when he was twenty. He was a dog person, he liked science, and had a best friend named Natasha. His favorite food was ham. When he was fourteen he accidentally burned down his neighbors shed. These were the kinds of things they talked about as they slowly prepared their dinner. Steve was receptive, commenting, or plying Bucky with questions as he absently peeled the carrots. Still he volunteered little information about himself. He wasn’t certain he was ready for that just yet.

-.-

The soup was thick, and creamy, loaded with potatoes, carrots, celery and chicken. Bucky had sliced up a loaf of bread, spreading a few slices with butter and garlic and let them sit for just a few minutes in the broiler. It made a perfect combination, and the unlikely companions had slipped into a comfortable silence as they eat. 

Steve laid his spoon off to the side, his bowl empty in front of him. Warm, sleepy contentment seeped from his full stomach, all the way out his limbs and down to his fingers and toes. Even though a part of his mind still nagged him to be alert, and wary, Steve felt himself slipping into lazy comfort. Absently, Steve’s gaze drifted to a pen that had been left on the corner of the table. Slender, artistic fingers slid out, lifting the pen and turning it thoughtfully in his hands.

Bucky scrapped up the last of his soup, opening his mouth to speak before reigning himself back. Steve was doodling on the corner of his napkin, eyes lowered just so that the light caught his long dark lashes. His soft pink lips were parted, the tip of his tongue resting just between his teeth, occasionally tracing distracting back and forth as he worked. Steve’s movements were deft, and practiced. Bucky watched in awed silence as figures sprang into existence on the unlikely canvas. A woman. Just an outline, all flowing lines and loose shapes, but unmistakably a woman. Dark lips marked the first solid lines of the sketch, followed by the smooth, flowing sweep of eyelashes, a delicately pointed nose; just a suggestion of curly hair. 

The brunet watched, speechless as Steve worked, anything he’d wanted to say long forgotten. It was Steve who finally broke the spell. For just a brief second, Steve’s gaze lifted, and Bucky dropped his eyes hurriedly, but it was too late. The slender young man cleared his throat, falteringly setting the pen aside and slipping the napkin of the table. 

"I uh…I didn’t know you could do that…" Bucky said uncertainly, his gaze flickering to Steve’s thin, skilled fingers, and Steve flushed.

"You must’a, it was the only thing they could think of to talk about for me at the auction."

"Wasn’t listening just then." Bucky admitted with a shrug. Frankly, he hadn’t been paying the auction one bit of his attention until the silence fell. But _god_ was he glad he had looked up. “‘Sides, guy like you, they must’a had other stuff to talk about."

A snort escaped Steve’s throat and he leaned back in his chair, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of the borrowed sweatpants. “What? Like my stunning physique?” He asked, his nose wrinkling slightly. But despite Steve’s casual air, his eyes flickered with a dull hurt. Steve struggled with his self-esteem, but he worked even harder to make sure that nobody ever thought it was anything more than a joke. 

" _Why not_?" Bucky pressed suddenly, leaning across the table towards him. As the words spilled from his lips, Bucky went pink, but pushed on tenaciously. "Yer _gorgeous_ , why wouldn’t they mention it?"

Steve stared, not sure if he should feel flattered, or insulted…because there was no way Bucky could really think that way about him…not looking the way he did… He faltered, wordless, and flustered, caught between stammering a ‘ _thanks’_ and snapping a ‘ _fuck off._ ’ He could feel the heat rising in his face, coloring his ears and neck an embarrassing shade of scarlet. “You don’t mean that.” Steve murmured, settling on something in between, because after a lifetime of thinking so poorly of himself, Bucky’s praise only hurt.

"Like fuck I do." Bucky countered, standing up and swiping the two bowls from the table. "Those people at the auction were _freakin’ blind_! I couldn’t believe no one was gonna snap up a doll like you." As he dumped the dishes in the skin, Bucky still a discrete glance at Steve. His back had gone ridged again, cheeks flushed with conflicted embarrassment. His hands worried at his napkin under the table, twisting and tearing little bits off and letting them flutter to the titles. He looked frustrated, and confused. "I mean it." Bucky continued, the tension in his voice easing. "I think yer somethin’ special Steve…Dunno how anyone could’a miss that…"

Something in Steve broke. He couldn’t listen to Bucky speaking so honestly, so _highly_ of him for a moment longer. It was still too raw, and he was still too stubborn to accept his words. Steve changed the subject.

"Serious question." Steve started abruptly, his gaze definitive. There would be no more talk of his physical appearance for the time being. "You paid four hundred bucks for me, why haven’t you asked me to do anythin’ for you yet?"

Bucky blinked, Steve changing tack so quickly that it made his head spin. “What?” He asked, his voice breaking slightly. “I…I guess….I mean, I wasn’t even thinking participating at the stupid auction, so it’s not like I had a plan or anything, I just- I- I sorta- you want me to ask you to do somethin’ for me Steve?”

Steve hesitated, a shadow of reluctance ghosting over his expression, before he dismissed it with an absent shrug. “Yeah. It’s what I’m here for. Just…nothin’ freaky, ‘kay?”

Bucky fell silent, drinking in Steve’s appearance. The overhead lamp backlit Steve’s figure, casting the appearance of a halo of white light around his golden hair. Pale shadows threw across his face, accenting his delicate features, shading his blue eyes deeply. Bucky was speaking before he’d even really thought the words through.

"Draw me?"

Steve blinked, a look of surprise darting across his features. What ever he’d been expecting Bucky to ask of him, it certainly hadn’t been  _that_. The idea seemed to sink in, slowly, Steve’s expression going lax, and thoughtful. “Yeah…” He murmured under his breath, before giving a sharp jerk of a nod and rising to his feet. “Yeah, okay. In the living room though, the lighting’s better.”

Bucky’s entire face lit up like the sun and he nodded hurriedly, scrambling to put away the last of dinner before Steve could change his mind. The two young men headed into the living room, Bucky retrieving paper, pencils, and a hard covered book for Steve to work with.  

Wetting his lips uncertainly, Steve crossed his legs underneath him, dropping to the floor. “Just, get comfy wherever.” He gestured vaguely in front of him as he thumbed through the papers, but didn’t lift his eyes. When Bucky had asked him to draw him, Steve had initially been relieved. It was something safe, something normal, and it was one of the few things he was good at. But there were still…complications. Steve models always fell into one of two categories. Friends, and strangers, and Bucky was neither. Steve’s mental image of Bucky was cluttered, and getting more complex by the moment. He didn’t know him well, so he couldn’t quite trust him. But he was open, and kind. He had an easy smile, and a warm laugh that made Steve’s heart beat just a little bit faster. He was beautiful…and he really seemed to like him…Steve wasn’t at all sure he could put all of that down on paper.

The blond artist’s gaze was still rooted the paper when he felt the boards shift under the carpet, Bucky’s weight setting on the floor in front of him. “This okay, or…Y’want me to…maybe…take off-“

"Yer clothes are fine Buck." Steve murmured shortly, not lifting his eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, because then he’d have to start, and he’d have to lay Bucky’s gorgeous figure down on paper. He’d have to look long and hard at the flushed red curve of his mouth, at the slight dip between his lips and nose…at his steel gray eyes, gleaming with excitement and affection… Steve wasn’t sure he could do that, because if he did, he’d have to admit that just maybe, he was beginning to like him. 

Steve inhaled deeply, the tip of his damp, pink tongue sliding out to wet his mouth before he dragged his eyes upward. Steve’s arrhythmic heart stilled in his chest. He’d been right in his reluctance, because the moment his gaze landed on Bucky, rested back on his elbows, his long, muscular legs stretched in front of him, Steve’s stomach exploded with butterflies. 

_It wasn’t fair._

_Steve wasn’t supposed to start liking him._

 The lighting in the living room really was perfect. Wide open windows let in pools of natural light, highlighting the contours of Bucky’s sharp cheekbones and accenting the lines of his strong jaw. It gleamed through his dark chestnut hair like white gold, reflecting off of the swell of his muscular forearms and the strong lines along the backs of his hands. Steve felt himself staring. Abruptly, he wrenched his gaze away, cheeks coloring as he began sketching a hasty oval on the clean, white page. He wasn’t going to look any more than necessary…He wasn’t going to like him…

"When’d you start drawin’ Steve?" 

Bucky’s curious question startled Steve out of his thoughts. The pencil jerked guiltily in his hands, and Steve swallowed, forcing himself back to reality. “I was a kid.” He responded quietly, stealing a quick glance before lowering his gaze again.

Bucky watched his unlikely companion closely as his worked, his brow drawn slightly. Even after almost four hours, he still couldn’t get a read on Steve. Either that, or his attitudes towards him were changing so rapidly that he couldn’t keep pace. Before, he’d been bitter, and caustic; fearful. Not too long ago, they’d actually managed to talk, almost like friends. Now, Steve seemed shy, and jumpy, his boney shoulders squared, and ridged. It made Bucky’s chest ache. He wanted Steve to feel secure, and relaxed, he wanted him to feel safe, and comfortable around him. The dark haired man didn’t want to pry, or push his luck, but just maybe, he could get Steve to open up, to talk about something he loved.

"So…Who taught y’how? Or did you just pick it up on yer own?" Bucky asked, keeping his tone light, and conversational, trying to engage Steve just a little bit.

"Shuddup Buck, I’m workin’ on your mouth."

Bucky huffed, his brow drawing into a frown. “Y’wanna shut me up, then gimme somthin’ t’listen to. Talk to me!”

Steve’s expression twisted with indecision, because Bucky actually seemed interested. He actually sounded like he _wanted_ to know about him, wanted to hear what he had to say. But Steve was so unused to talking about himself… Again, his tongue flicked out to nervously wet his lips as he scrubbed a tiny area clear with his eraser. “My Ma started me off actually…” Steve began reluctantly. “I was…I was stuck in bed a lot as a kid and when I’d get aintsy, she’d bring me paper and pencils…my Ma’d sit I the edge of the bed with me, and she’d draw on one side of the paper, and I’d draw on the other until we met in the middle…” Steve’s voice grew wistful, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the lines flowed smoothly off his hand. “We’d fill up sheets, and leave’um layin’ around, and when I’d finally got to sleep she’d hang’um up around my room so I could see them. After awhile, I started drawing on my own.” He explained, his tone warming, eyes lighting up as he continued. “Ma used to say she’d think she was crazy if she ever saw me without a pencil in my hand. And I…got pretty good I guess, decided that that’s what I wanted to do with my life…draw, teach art maybe, go to a fancy art school. It’s all I wanted…”

"Y’ever get there?" Bucky asked, almost reluctant to speak, because Steve was finally sharing something about himself, and Bucky didn’t want to break the spell.

Steve snorted, angling his hand to shade something on his paper. “Sure did, wasn’t nothin’ like I thought it’d be though.” He commented with a wry smirk. “Art’s not an easy way to make money, I didn’t think it’s be quite so…ugly at times…y’know” he continued hurriedly, giving a quick shrug. “Crappy apartments, late rent, stuff like that.” Steve’s words trailed off, his expression softening, growing distant, and thoughtful. For a long moment, he was silent. His graceful, artistic fingers swept the pencil loosely across the page in wide, free strokes. His eyelashes lowered sweeping across his cheek bones, the set of his mouth relaxing into a warm, sincere smile. “But you know, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Steve said quietly. “I’m doing what I love, what I’m good at, and if it means I’m tight at the end of the month then, I’m okay with that.”

When Steve finally lifted his gaze from his paper he found Bucky staring at him. He couldn’t read the expression on his face, or, maybe he was choosing not to, because the look written all too plainly on Bucky’s features was pure adoration. Steve dropped his gaze hurriedly, thrusting the paper out to him. “Here-”

The look of adoration on Bucky’s face was abruptly crowded out by excitement and he reached forward, snagging the sheet in delicate, eager hand.

"Holy _shit_ Steve!" Bucky whispered suddenly breathless with awe. "This is- _fucking hell_ , Steve, this is incre- it- it’s amazing, it’s- holy shit… _hooooly shit…god_ -"

Despite himself, Steve found himself flushing up with pleasure, Bucky’s praise making him feel warm, and light headed. “Go on Buck, string together another intelligent sentence.” He jabbed lightly, smiling at the ground.

" _Holy_ -" Bucky whispered, his touch having gone suddenly reverent on the page. "Steve, I can’t even- this is…"

"Bucky-" Steve muttered, growing more embarrassed by the second.

Bucky swallowed back another half-form babble of praise, drinking in the sight of the sketch for a few seconds more before lifting his gaze to Steve. “Steve?” He pressed, waiting until the other man dragged his gaze up from the carpet. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Steve managed a little nod, still feeling oddly pleased at Bucky’s reaction. “Yeah, well, s’the only thing ya asked me to do for you so I figured I’d better not fuck it up.”

"Hey, hang on a second. Not the _only_ thing." Bucky pressed, scooting forward, and snatching the papers and hardback out of Steve’s lap. "Hold still DaVinci, I’m gonna draw you now."

Steve groaned aloud, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Bucky no-” he whined, making a half-hearted grab for the supplies. “Bucky- Buck, c’mon, I- I can’t, I’m an awful model don’t-”

"Ah-ah!" Bucky shushed him abruptly, pressing the tip of the eraser against Steve’s protesting lips. "If it’s legal, it’s on the table." He quoted. "This is legal, and I own you for four more hours, so shut up and sit still."

The smaller man keened in frustration, rocking back a bit before reluctantly settling himself. He shifted, shooting Bucky an ugly look before assuming a statue like stillness, his brow still drawn into a frown.

Smirking to himself, Bucky poked his tongue out between his lips, sweeping it absently back and forth as he set to work. His hands moved quickly over the page, eyes darting up every so often to make sure Steve hadn’t moved. “That sneer doesn’t suit ya Stevie,” he murmured distractedly, scratching in a few lines before glancing up again.

Steve snorted. “Yeah? Well yer gonna have t’live with it.” He sassed back, wrinkling his nose just a touch. 

The brunet snickered, his teeth sinking into his plush lower lip, worrying at it as he worked. After a few minutes, Bucky straightened. “Okay,” He breathed with a note of finality. “Whadd’ya think?”

Steve broke out of his statue-like stillness, shifting forward and sitting on his feet. He reached forward, torn between curiosity and anxiousness, because he never liked what he saw in the mirror, but maybe it would be better on paper. Slowly, he received the page, wetting his lips as he turned it with gentle hands.

A snort of laugher tore of Steve’s lips.

Bucky head snapped up, stunned at the sound, only to see Steve clap a hand over his mouth and nose, eyes widening. ”Sorry-” He choked, before a peel of laughter escaped his throat and he doubled forward, still clutching the page. “I- S-Sorry, Bucky, I- I-” Steve’s laughter sounded like rain on a tin roof; breaking and babbling, with a little touch of a rasp as his weak lungs struggled to keep up. Boney fingers clutched at his stomach, wheezing, and gasping before another peel would fall from his lips, filling the room like music.

Bucky watched, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear. He had seldom seen Steve smile, much less laugh, but the minute he heard it he knew he was hook. Bucky was going to spend the rest of his goddamn life trying to get Steve to laugh like that.

The drawing slipped from Steve’s numb fingers, drifting to the floor between them. It was terrible really. Bucky’s rendition of Steve was artlessly executed. His expression, so perfect, and endearing, was skewed beyond all hope of recognition. Bucky was no artist, but at the moment, he couldn’t have been more glad of that. Because of it, he’d been able to make Steve laugh.  

"I’m sorry," Steve gasped, sitting up and dragging in a deep lungful of air as he shoved his bangs out of his face. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry Buck- It’s good- It’s good. I- I love it…" He panted, quickly dashing the back of his wrist across his face, scrubbing away the moisture that had beaded in the corners of his eyes.

"It sucks." Bucky grinned, scooting closer to pick it up, laying it on the coffee table. 

"It’s perfect," Steve smirked, lifting his gaze to him, suddenly looking bashful. "D’ya mind if I keep it?"

Bucky granted him a shrug and a wide, easy grin. “Sure. But you’re not allowed to run out on me just yet. We’ve got time still.”

Steve tipped his chin down, shaking his head slightly. His cheeks ached, and he felt weirdly full…bubbly. His chest felt warm, albeit a little tight from the trauma he’d just put his lungs through. He wasn’t used to laughing like that, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could pinpoint why. Steve always held his emotions so close to his chest, it suddenly seemed ridiculous that he was lounging on the floor of a strange house, with a man he barely knew…and laughing… It felt good. 

A few feet away, Bucky pushed himself up, depositing all the drawing supplies on the coffee table. “Y’wanna put in a movie, Steve?” He asked, looking down to where the slender blond was still stretched out on his carpet. “Y’can have yer own side of the couch, swear t’god.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully, grimacing as he pulled his fragile body off of the floor. “Alright, but only if there’s popcorn.”

-.-

Bucky sighed sleepily, blinking his bleary eyes as he glanced down the length of the couch. Steve was curled up a cushion away, head nestled on his arms, knobby knees drawn up to his chest. The dim light from the t.v light his face in soft whites and grays, his straw blond hair tousled messily across his forehead. Everything in Bucky wanted to reach over, and caress it away from his face, but he reluctantly stuffed the urge. He’d given Steve permission to break his hand the next time he touched him. Even though Bucky thought the pain would be worth being able to smooth his fingers over Steve’s soft, blond hair, he’d resolved that he would never do anything to make Steve wary of him again.

It had started with Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which they had finished before the popcorn had been completely gone and while they still had almost two hours of their time left. Steve had insisted that they start something else, Indian Jones, as it turned out. The two resolved to watch only until the popcorn was gone and Steve was allowed to go home. But before they knew it, the first Lord of the Rings had been slipped into the player and the empty bowl had been set aside. It was late, and Steve had over stayed his requirement by…Bucky didn’t even know how long. True to his word, he had stayed on his side of the couch, while Steve had curled up on the other, the two of them trading bits of trivia and comments on favorite scenes until Steve fell silent. 

Reluctantly. Bucky clicked the TV off, the quite credits music silencing abruptly. “Steve.” He breathed, gently pitching a pillow in his direction. It landed across Steve’s ribs with a muted thump, and the smaller man twitched in his sleep. “Stevie, c’mon…” Bucky coaxed softly, and a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Bucky’s mouth as he tossed another pillow on top of his sleeping form. A few murmured words and four pillows later, Steve stirred, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"Jerk…" He mumbled under his breath, shoving the small mound off and yawning hugely. Bone thin hand came up to scrub at his eyes, and Steve rose clumsily to his feet. 

"It’s almost 11:30…" Bucky said softly.

"I should go."

"Probably should…"

Bucky watched reluctantly as Steve made his way to the kitchen, pulling his ugly tan jacket off the hanger and retrieving his phone from the kitchen table. The blond had just stooped to tug on his shoes when Bucky abruptly stood. “Lemme drive you.” said suddenly, noting the phone in his hand. “Y’don’t have to wake yer friend, I’ll…I’ll take ya.” 

Steve blinked, a small, sleepy smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “Y’sure?” He asked, yawning once more.

"Yeah, no problem," Bucky said dismissively. "I ain’t too far is it?"

"20 Minutes," Steve responded with a shrug, and Bucky nodded. 

"Alright, lets hit it then. Gotta get Cinderella home before the clock strikes midnight.

That coaxed a real smile from Steve who tucked his phone away. “Whadd’ever you say Buck…” He murmured, a little too asleep yet to come up with a snappy retort. 

-.-

Following Steve’s murmured directions, Bucky drove him back to the cramped little apartment he shared with Sam. It wasn’t much, and there was talk of looking at a nicer spot, but it was a good enough place to hang your hat. 

Gravel crunched underfoot as Bucky walked Steve up to the door of his apartment, the night heavy, and quiet around them. It was nice, comfortable…intimate. Steve drew to a stop on the front step. He’d come to a bit in the car, and his gaze was once again bright, and alert. Clear blue eyes swept up Bucky’s body, reluctantly coming to rest on his face, softly backlit by a nearby street lamp.

"Well Buck…" He muttered, scuffing a toe awkwardly against the gravel. "You uh…Y’proved me wrong, so…thanks for that I guess." Steve said softly, meeting his gaze, steady, and even. 

Bucky wet his lips with a shy smile; his head dipping for a moment before he raised his eye once more. “Don’t hold me to that _too much_ …” Bucky smirked, nudging his toe against the step that Steve was standing on. 

"Why not?" Steve asked, shaking his bangs out of his eyes.

"Cause I’m not always good at keeping promises…" Hot blood pounded thought Bucky’s head, making it hard to hear, hard to think. With shaking fingers, he reached up, slowly, carefully. 

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest, his gaze following Bucky’s hand as he moved it gently towards his face. He’d promised himself that if Bucky ever tired to touch him, he’d break his fingers. But as Bucky’s skin grazed softly across his cheek, Steve let out a half breath, his eyes fluttering closed. For just a moment, Bucky hesitated, before softly laying his hand against Steve’s cheek. The smaller man’s hands twisted at his side, conflicted. Slowly, with his eyes still tight closed, Steve reached up, his fingers finding Bucky’s as he pressed into the touch. 

The world had stopped spinning. Any noise was either gone, or forgotten, as Steve stood with his eyes closed, vulnerable, as Bucky tenderly cupped his face. His heart was slamming against his ribcage, but he didn’t open his eyes. He trusted Bucky. A heavy moment passed where neither of them moved, and then Steve felt Bucky’s warm breath against his lips, his mouth so close he could almost taste it. 

Bucky waited, achingly close, his stomach in knots, but he wanted to wait. Steve had to be able to pull away if he wanted too. But he wasn’t. Bucky swallowed, his heart rate picking up. Steve wasn’t moving away! He was still, and relaxed under his touch, waiting in blind, trusting silence. _He wasn’t moving away_. 

Bucky leaned in. His lips brushed, softly against Steve’s holding it for just a moment before he committed fully. Bucky captured Steve’s mouth in a tender kiss, his opposite hand coming up to ever so gently cradle the smaller man’s face in his hands. 

Steve felt his knees go suddenly weak, sinking back against the doorframe for support as Bucky’s mouth met his. The brunet accommodated the movement, stepping in to allow Steve the support he needed, but somehow, Steve didn’t feel trapped. He leaned against the wall, Bucky’s mouth pressing softly against his own and felt…safe. 

Steve’s skin was hot, and flushed under Bucky’s hands. He felt light headed. Bucky’s mind was spinning because Steve’s lips so incredible against his own, soft, and ever so slightly chapped; sweet like apples. 

With aching slowness, Bucky drew back. His lips slid from Steve’s with a soft gasp, his hands easing away. Steve’s heavy eyelids lifted, his gaze meeting Bucky’s. The two men stared for just a moment, stunned by the moment they’d just allowed themselves to share. Bucky suddenly turned, and retreated down the steps. 

Steve rested against the doorframe weakly, watching Bucky until he’d circled around to the driver’s side of the car before turning away. He slipped the extra key out from under the mat, unlocking his front door. 

"Hey Steve?"

Steve turned hurriedly, only to see Bucky leaning against the roof of his car, staring up at him with warmth, and hopefulness. “Can I take y’out on a proper date sometime?”

Steve swallowed, his stomach suddenly flipping nervously inside him. “Yeah- Sure…” He said softly, a little smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Come by noon on Thursday.”

"How’s noon on Friday?"

Steve paused for just a moment before offering a little nod. “Noon on Friday.” He repeated in a hushed tone. “Don’t be late.”

-.- 

Steve slipped into the cluttered little apartment, his head spinning. His mouth was still tingling, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that Bucky’s perfect lips were still touching his own. 

"Steve!" Sam was braced in the doorway of his bedroom, his stare boring into Steve’ very bones. He crossed the room in three long strides, grabbing Steve’s arms. "What the hell happened to you man? I’ve been worried sick, left you like _six_ messages. _Fucking hell_ , Steve! I though you’d gotten killed or something!" 

Steve blinked, before his stomach sank, realizing that his phone had sat on Bucky’s kitchen table on silent since before dinner. “ _Fuck_ \- Sam, I’m sorry-” He started, but Sam gave a vicious little shake of his head, his grip tightening on his arms. 

"S’fine- You okay man? Y’hurt?"

"No- I’m not-"

"Then what the hell happened bone head?" Sam said, releasing his shoulders with a huff that was a mixture between frustration and relief. "Y’get snapped up at the auction by some  _guy_ , and disappear on me. You don’t check you’re messages, you’d don’t text pant, and they you show up well over ten hours later and I _know_ those ain’t your pants!”

Steve stopped, his gaze dropping before he realized that Bucky’s sweatpants were still hanging off his boney hips. His jeans and boxer were most likely lying, forgotten, in Bucky’s dryer. “Oh- these are his- I mean- Sam-” He started helplessly, before lifting a hand, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Nothing happened.” He started again. “I promise. He didn’t hurt me. _We_  didn’t do anything. There was a spill, okay?

"Convenient." Sam murmured, echoing Steve’s earlier thoughts.

"Yeah, I know-" He continued hurriedly. "I thought so too, but it was an accident. Bucky’s…really nice actually…Y’know, we had dinner, I drew him, we watched movies, it was fine." Steve voice softened a he gently nudged his friend’s elbow. " _I’m_ fine Sam. Just a little tired."

Sam’s expression relaxed and he reached out, tugging Steve’s head against his chest in a brief hug, before releasing him. “Kay, gotta keep my eye on you.” He added with a smirk. “And hey, I’m sorry about this whole auction mess, I didn’t think it was gonna go down that way.”

Steve was shrugging it off before the words were hardly out of Sam’s mouth. “Don’t mention it. I…actually had a pretty great afternoon…G’night Sam.”

Sam smiled, reaching out to give Steve’s shoulder a gentle shove before he turned towards his own bedroom. “Night Steve.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming along here guys. What do you think? I could leave it wrapped up here or take it for another chapter or two, maybe venture into some first date material. Feedback? Thoughts?  
> (Also, anyone have any insight on how to get rid of the double notes? Nothing really seems to be working.)


	4. Chapter 4

Steve lurched in alarm, his heart rate suddenly skyrocketing as a firm knock rattled the doorframe. It had to be Bucky, it couldn’t be anyone else, not at exactly 12:00 on a Friday afternoon.

“I’ll get it-” He blurted thoughtlessly, bolting past Sam, who was resting back on the couch, feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on the coffee table. The older man’s gaze followed him across the room, a faint smile lifting the corners of his full lips. Steve had been almost frantic all morning. Of course, per the norm with Steve, he kept it close to his chest, stuffed down in hopes of hiding it, but Sam could see it in his eyes. They darted back and forth, shifting restlessly as Steve had pawed through his dresser drawers, narrowing darkly as he dismissed various clothing options. He had been doing his best to reassure Steve, helping him decide between two, nearly identical, shirts, intoning murmurs of comfort, and occasionally brushing little touches across his back and shoulders. Steve was tense, and too proud to admit his anxiousness, but Sam’s reassurance helped. Now he watched as Steve drew up just short of the door, and froze.

A soft huff of air whispered from between Steve’s damp rosy lips, his heart throbbing, pressing higher into his throat. Maybe he hadn’t thought this through.What if the other day had been a fluke, some weird laps in sanity? What if Bucky had lost his mind _just_ long enough to mistake a brief notice of Steve for actual _affection_? What if-

Steve swallowed back the string of thoughts. He was nervous enough about the first real date he’d been on in his goddamn life without working himself up about whether or not Bucky really even liked him in the first place.

He needed to move. Bucky was just on the other side of the door, waiting, and yet, Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to grab the handle. All the _what if’s_ tumbled around in his mind, jarring against on another, raising the white noise in his ears to a roar. Sam’s deep easy tone broke through the keening buzz in his skull.

"Y’gonna answer that?"

Steve swallowed, his stomach clenching. “Yeah.” He murmured, the word slipping, hushed, from his lips as his fingers curled around the handle. A second, slightly louder knock jostled the door, and Steve felt his heart rate spike. Forcing his doubts back, he abruptly yanked open the door.

On the doorstep, Bucky startled as the door swung inward before he’d hardly drawn his hand away. He looked nervous, but in a moment, the expression was suddenly washed over by an air of confidence and despite his nerves, Steve couldn’t help a small smile. There he went again, covering his clumsy awkwardness with confidence, and self-assured charm. “Hey Stevie,” Bucky drawled easily, lifting his chin as the corners of his flushed red lips curled up in an easy smirk.

His boney fingers slid from the knob, and Steve swallowed back the lump of uncertainty in his throat. “Hey Buck-” he greeted hesitantly, feeling his skin warm, his cheeks flushing against his will.

Bucky looked incredible, which Steve _really_ should have been used to by now. No matter the day, lighting, outfit, or apparently _any_ other factor, Bucky always seemed to attain a kind of effortless beauty that Steve knew he could never hope to imitate. Somehow, even just wearing dark wash jeans, a black t-shirt and dark olive jacket, Bucky still managed to look like he’d just strolled off the runway, modeling contract still warm from the printer. His dark brown hair was pushed back away from his face, a few strands just touching his cheekbones. Gray eyes glinted with excitement, and maybe a touch of nervousness. It was hardly fair that Bucky could walk around looking like he did and still _somehow_ manage to get flustered by _Steve_.

It abruptly struck Steve that he’d been blatantly checking Bucky out, and he felt his ears to go red with embarrassment: He had all of a moment to feel ashamed, his lips parting to speak when he felt the door push wider behind him. Sam’s broad figure filled the doorway, his toned arms crossed loosely over his chest. His expression was calm, neutral, but he took in Bucky’s appearance with a critical eye. Steve found himself worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, his gaze flicking up to the imposing figure of his friend.

"This your guy?" Sam asked, his tone ambivalent, as his eyes swept over Bucky.

Steve gave a little jerk of a nod, shifting so that Sam wasn’t directly to his back. “Uh, Bucky, this is my roommate, Sam. Sam, Bucky, my uh-”

"Date." Bucky supplied helpfully, and Steve felt the knots in his stomach begin to unwind. Bucky’s interjection was a relief. To be honest, the question of what Bucky was had been plaguing Steve all morning. Strangers was no longer fitting, but they weren’t _together_ …Steve didn’t know if they ever _could_ be…but date…date felt right, for now. It was open, non-binding. Bucky was taking him on a date. He _liked_ him, and Steve could no longer fool himself into thinking that the feeling wasn’t mutual. If they never saw each other again after today, Steve would be left with at least a good memory, if nothing more. And if they _did_ see each other again…Steve wasn’t sure he was quite ready to think about what they would be then. But for now, _date_ fit just fine.

"Right-" Steve nodded shortly. "My date,"

"And the buyer from earlier in the week." Sam pressed, glancing down to Steve for confirmation. At the little jerk of a nod, Sam’s neutral expression eased in a smile and he reached out a hand. Bucky, clearly relieved at Sam’s apparent acceptance, took the proffered hand. "Steve told me about you," Sam said with an easy grin. "Said he was pleasantly surprised that y’didnt turn out to be some kind’a serial killer."

"Sam!" Steve hisses, his ears going from red to crimson.

A peel of laughter escaped Bucky and he withdrew his hand, glinting eyes sweeping over Steve, who seemed like he’d be all to happy if the earth would swallow him up. “He expressed his concerns.” Bucky smirked, raising his eyebrows in Steve’s direction. “Was half-way out the door too at one point. Hope yer still gonna let me take him out after I scared the shit out of him.”

Sam granted Bucky an easy shrug, giving Steve a sidelong glance. “S’long as you get him home by nine-” he started; his smirked widening into a grin as Steve cracked his boney elbow into Sam’s ribs.

-.-

Apparently, Bucky _was_ a romantic at heart, provided he had a little time to plan. After their abysmal first date, wherein Bucky had no plans, no charm, and very little success, Steve had kept his expectations moderate. Maybe they would go out for a coffee or something tame like that, but Bucky had something far more elaborate in mind.

Coffee _was_ the first stop. Bucky took Steve to a charming little corner café, treating him to a specialty drink of Steve’s choice. Always curious to try new things, Steve decided on a white chocolate raspberry latte, which was surprisingly pleasant, the espresso leaving a buzz in the back of his skull and a slight tremor in his hands. Bucky had settled for a dark roast coffee. The little café was the perfect place to spend an hour or more, talking easily and sipping at their drink. Once both cups were empty, Bucky hurried Steve onward.

Their next stop was Coney Island. As they had approached the entrance, Steve had felt a thrill of almost childish excitement, his heart rate picking up as a smile pulled at his lips. He hadn’t been to Coney Island since he was a child, and Bucky’s face split into a wide grin as he saw Steve’s reaction to his choice. Truthfully, he had been worried that Steve might not enjoy going to the park, rather than something a little more sophisticated, but his fears were quickly allayed. During their time at the park, Steve was more open then Bucky thought he’d ever seem him, smiling easily, and allowing himself to enjoy the dizzying rides and cheep food without reservation.

Once Steve insisted that if he went on one more ride he was going to hurl all over him, Bucky led Steve away from the crowds. The noise, and light and chatter faded away as Bucky took Steve out to the pier, silence falling around them as they walked, boards creaking underfoot, the salty air rising to meet them.

After his fairly extreme breach of Steve’s _no touching_ rule when he’d last seen him off, Bucky was in top form. He hadn’t touch Steve at all. The only contact that passed between them was early, when Bucky had laid a light touch against Steve’s elbow to guide him out of the way of a distracted cyclist. Beyond that though, Bucky was perfect gentlemen, keeping his hands (and lips) to himself throughout the entire date and, with a hint of unease, Steve realized he wasn’t certain what he thought of that anymore.

On one hand, it was comforting. The longer Bucky went without some much as a suggestion of an ulterior motive, the more Steve trusted him. Bucky seemed perfectly content just to be with him, just to spend time with him. The slender blond did catch him staring as they walked along the peer, but it wasn’t the kind of hungry leering Steve had learned to recognize. It was warm, and affectionate, the glimpse of adoration in his stare making Steve’s knees week.

But on the other hand, Steve couldn’t get Bucky’s lips out of his head. He couldn’t forget how soft, and warm they felt, how gently Bucky’s hands had cupped his face. He couldn’t shake the desire to feel them pressing against his mouth again, to feel his breath on his lips, and his hot tongue playing across the seem of his lips. Steve was alarmed, and almost ashamed when he found that he wanted desperately to know how it would feel if Bucky were to kiss his neck. He wanted to know what it would be like to feel his warm, steady hands stroking his sides, running over the ridges of each and every boney rib, kissing over them, his warm breath on his skin. Steve wanted desperately to be touched, but had forbidden the one person he _wanted_ to touch him, and it was apparent that Bucky wouldn’t be breaking his word again. Still, Steve wondered…

-.-

"Bucky?"

Bucky slowed his pace, turned to glance over at Steve, who walked beside him. The blond’s head was lowered, but his glaze flitted up, stealing glances at him from under his long lashes, and _fuck_ \- Steve looked so fuckin’ pretty, with the setting sun spinning hair with gold. It lit off the ends of his lashes like sparks, glowing warm, and rosy on his flushed lips and cheeks.

Bucky had been cautious not to touch Steve at all if he didn’t have to. He wanted him to trust him. He wanted Steve to believe that he wasn’t going to hurt him, or press him in a direction he wasn’t ready for. But _god_ \- if Bucky ever wanted to touch him it was now, with the light glowing around him, and that faint little smile on his rosy lips. Bucky wanted to hold him close and kiss him until his head spun, until he couldn’t breath and his chest fluttered with warmth and light. But he couldn’t.

Bucky flexed his fingers in his pockets, before lifted his chin, smooth, and confident. “Yeah Stevie?” He asked, the nickname sliding easily from his lips. Steve hadn’t seemed to mind, and the way it rolled of his tongue felt normal, and right. So he was Stevie. _His_ Stevie, Bucky fancied, but he kept that to himself.

Steve turned away from the path they’d been walking along the pier, moving towards a comfortable bench, tucked a little ways away. “Let’s sid’down a bit.” He said absently, and Bucky followed after.

"How’re yer feet hold’n up?" Bucky asked as he dropped down onto the bench beside him, his shoulder close, but not touching.

"Feet’re just fine," Steve breathed, "it’s the lungs that are givin’ me shit." It was true, even at the easy stroll Steve had felt his lungs growing tight. He _could_ have ignored it, it would have been fine, but the heavy breathing gave him an excuse to sit with Bucky. Even if just for a while, he could be close to him, and maybe sort out what the _hell_ he was going to do.

Bucky’s brow drew into a tiny frown of concern, and he eased a little closer, tempted to lay a hand on his knee. Of course, he couldn’t. “Y’need anything?” Bucky asked, his palms itching from the neglected contact. “Water? Y’got a inhaler?”

"Bucky," Steve said, drawing in a deep, easy breath. "I’m good, I just need to sit a minute or two."

At Steve’s calm reassurance, Bucky gave a little nod, allowing his concern to slip away. It would do no good to fuss. Bucky hadn’t known Steve long, but he already know that Steve wouldn’t appreciate being coddled or fretted over. He didn’t want to be treated any different from anyone else. “Sure,” Bucky commented offhandedly. “Sun set looks nice from here anyways.”

Steve smiled faintly, turning his gaze ahead to the sun setting over the water. He couldn’t see it’s color in the same dept than riches that Bucky could, but he appreciated it nonetheless. It was warm, and bright, and Steve couldn’t help but think that it would be nicer to watch with Bucky’s arm around his waist. The slender blond drew in a deep breath, feeling his weak lungs filling with the sweet oxygen, his head going light as he tried to lay out the words in his mind. “Hey Buck?”

Bucky responded with a faint hum, his sleepy eyelids half-lowered over his steel gray irises.

"It’s real good of you to treat me like you do…" Steve muttered, feeling the heat rising in his face as he spoke. "I mean- you’ve been real decent ‘bout not touchin’ me and all…I guess- means a lot, s’all I’m sayin’."

Bucky stopped, suddenly turning his full attention to Steve, drinking in the sight of his delicate profile. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course Stevie. I mean, I know I freaked the fuck out of you the first time we met but I ain’t ever gonna push you.”

A wry smirk pulled at the smaller man’s lips and he turned, his gaze locking with Bucky’s. “y’could afford to.” He commented easily, tying to ignore the way his heart was slamming against his rib cage.

"Sorry?" Bucky asked, suddenly blinking in surprise, his gaze quickly dragging up the length of Steve’s body.

"You ain’t touched me this whole time. I’m not gonna break yer hand Buck. I _want_ you to."

Bucky’s heart stopped, his head suddenly feeling thick and fuzzy. _He was allowed to touch Steve._ Steve had giving him permission to touch him! A thousand things flitted though his mind, a thousand images just of what he could do right here. He wanted to start by brushing Steve’s hair away from his forehead. He wanted to run his fingers through his hair and brush his hands over his cheekbones. Bucky wanted to touch the sharp lines of Steve’s collarbone. He wanted to lay feather light kisses over every freckle across his perfect nose. He wanted to wrap Steve’s bone thing hands in his own, and lift his knuckles to his lips. He wanted to kiss Steve. _God_ he wanted to kiss Steve so badly it hurt; but he kept his hands in his lap, and his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Steve faltered, his expression cracking as his nervousness bubble to the surface. His fear that Bucky’s affection was short lived suddenly tightened his stomach into knots as he was once again forced to wonder why someone like Bucky would _ever_ waste his time on him. But he forced his expression to remain steady. “That _is_ and invitation, Barnes,” Steve pressed, but his voice gave a traitorous little wobble.

As Bucky eased forward, Steve felt his fear beginning to erode. But the brunet drew up just short of actual contact. He swallowed hard, staring at Steve, his piercing gray eyes boring into him. A huff of air escaped Bucky’s lips as he wet his mouth with a nervous sweep of his tongue, his gaze drifting between Steve’s eyes and his rosy lips. “Y’gotta tell me what’s okay.” Bucky insisted, his face close, breath warm on Steve’s cheek.

"Uhh-" Steve faltered helplessly, his stomach flopping weakly, the air between then seeming to crackle at the closeness. "A- anything within reason?" He breathed, lightheaded with anticipation. "Start slow, I’ll tell you if something’s not okay."

Bucky nodded wordlessly, slowly lifting a hand. He hesitated, drawing back for just a fraction of a moment, before steeling his nerves. Bucky reached out, and with utmost care and tenderness, carded his fingers though Steve’s soft blond hair.

Steve released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, feeling the other man’s fingernails scraping lightly over his scalp. Steve could count the number of times Bucky had touched him on one hand. He could recall _exactly_ how he’d felt during each touch. Guarded suspicion had laced his thoughts when Bucky had grasped his hand in a firm handshake. He’d felt revulsion, and disgust as the water had soaked his jeans, and Bucky’s hands hand grazed over his lap and thighs. He hadn’t been able to admit it at the time, even to himself, but he also felt a tingle of arousal as Bucky’s hands had slid up his thighs, which had only made the deep hurt and anger even worse. He remembered when Bucky had seen him off at the door of his apartment. He remembered the warmth, and the surprising sensation of safety, and trust as Bucky’s mouth had pressed, soft, and sweet against his own.

Now, Steve felt himself growing weak as Bucky’s fingers stroked softly through his hair. The skinny young man’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the touch, a breathless sigh escaping his lips. His face grew suddenly warm as Bucky cupped his jawline with his free hand. His thumb brushed tenderly across his cheek, tracing his freckles like constellations across his milky skin.

For what felt like the first time in his life, Steve allowed himself to be completely relaxed, and completely vulnerable. He kept his eyes closed. He let Bucky stroke his finger through his hair. His let his hand slid down his neck to trace the outline of his Adam’s apple, and the sharp cut of his collarbone. When Bucky rested his hand against the gentle curve of his waist, Steve didn’t so much as flinch. Bucky’s touch was warm, and delicate. His hands moved with caution, and he always lingered just a moment before he let his hand rest completely, giving Steve time to recognize how and where he was about to touch. Bucky’s touch was excessive, without so much as bordering on invasive. His ran his hands over his cheeks and neck, softly exploring his body, while always drawing back shy of his waist. Steve never had reason to think that Bucky would take advantage of his trust.

Without warning, Bucky’s hands stilled, and Steve slowly allowed his eyes to drift open. He was staring at him, his gaze alight with affection, and longing. Bucky’s warm, gray eyes dropped to Steve’s lips, and he stopped short, tearing his a gaze away.

Steve watched the movement, and in a sudden moment of recklessness, Steve curled his fingers into the front of Bucky’s shirt and dragged him into a kiss.

Bucky startled as Steve took the initiative, feeling his stomach dip and suddenly soar as the slender young man pulled him forward. The kiss was fast, and clumsy, as though Steve had been afraid of loosing his nerve. His lips were tight, and his eyes were screwed closed despite the soft little noises of pleasure he was making in the back of his throat. Bucky’s ears filled with a rush of static that rivaled the breaking of the nearby wave. He faltered, his hands momentarily jerking by his side before he seized the moment before it could slip away from him. He leaned forward, catching Steve’s boney jawline in his hands and tugging him close.

Steve followed Bucky’s lead, pressing closer. Bucky’s chest was firm, and solid against his own, rising and falling, his heart pounding against his ribs. His hands were warm, and strong against his jawline.

Bucky tipped his chin down, a hairs breadth of space breaking between their mouths as Bucky drew in a deep breath. Steve could feel his eyes lashes feathering across his cheeks, feel his breath, warm, and intimate between them. Bucky shifted his hand, the other still cradling Steve’s face tenderly in his palm. Hesitantly, he touched the pad of his thumb to the swell of Steve’s flushed lower lip, pressing gently, coaxing out the tension. Steve exhaled shakily, allowing the set of his mouth to relax, letting his tight lips loosen under Bucky’s touch.

At Steve’s response to his touch, a tiny smile curled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth, and he nuzzled against him affectionately. His hand slid away from his lips, gently taking Steve’s chin as he captured his mouth in a tender kiss. This time, Steve let himself relax into the kiss, his mouth soft against Bucky’s lips, eyes closed, breathing even. He let the tension in his body unwind, let himself savor the softness of Bucky’s lips, bitterness of black coffee, and the silky sweetness of chocolate still lingering on his mouth.

Moments melted into one another, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. He had never felt so content before, so completely safe. Bucky’s touch was warm, and comforting. His lips were soft, and Steve couldn’t imagine why he’d _ever_ been afraid of Bucky. He had been nothing but gentle. He was guarded, and considerate, and Steve knew at a core level that Bucky would never hurt him. And, maybe for the first time, Steve let himself believe that someone, that _Bucky_ , could really _want_ him.

With a deep, low sigh, Bucky drew back. Their lips parted, soft, and slow, Bucky’s upper lip dragging tenderly over Steve’s lower for a just a moment before sliding free. He blinked, looking breathless, and stunned, his expression written with awe.

Steve felt his weak little heart give a stutter in his chest. Bucky was still awfully close, his nose brushing against his own, his breath hot on his lips, staring at him like he was the sun. Steve felt his cheek warming at the intimacy, suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity, and of Bucky’s hand still holding his chin, the other supporting his weight against the bench between Steve’s thighs. “Don’t just stare at me-” Steve managed, his voice barely breaking a whisper in the intimate closeness.

Bucky barely batted at eyelash, his gaze still focused on Steve. “Can’t help it…” He murmured, sounding dazed, his thumb tracing Steve’s flushed lower lip. Slowly, the brunet’s tongue poked between his lips, wetting his mouth distractedly. “Say…Stevie? What’s a doll like you doin’ around here with a guy like me?”

A bark of laughter escaped Steve, shocking the silence, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turned up in a nervous smile. “Nah, I’m serious,” he pressed, the smirk growing more mischievous as he pressed into Steve’s space with a good-natured grin, leaning him back nearly onto his elbows. “Yer a peach Stevie,” he grinned, shifting forward and pecking his nose with a quick kiss. “A right pretty peach, y’got no business hanging around rabble like me.”

"Bucky-" Steve managed, trying not to laugh as Bucky shifted over him, trying to drop tiny little kisses to his cheeks and nose and forehead. The wood grain of the bench pressed into his elbows and forearms as he squirmed down, Bucky grinning as he pursued him with little gestures of affection. "Cuttit out Buck-" Steve gasped, surprised by a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You said I was allowed, sugar," Bucky beamed, nuzzling close as he pressed a cheesy kiss against Steve’s sunken cheek. "Sides’ yer too pretty to leave alone." As the words fell from Bucky’s lips, he tone softened, and he drew to a stop, staring down at Steve. The smaller man was resting back on his elbows, legs still draped over the edge of the bench as he returned his stare, gaze open, and receptive. Bucky blinked slowly, reaching down to tenderly brush his fingers across Steve’s razored cheekbones. "Been wantin’ to kiss you since I first saw ya…" He murmured, tenderly stroking from his cheek down the curve of his jawline. A soft huff of laughter tumbled from his damp lips, ringing like music in Steve’s ears. "Couldn’t bare to walk away from ya without at least tryin’…thought maybe y’d hate me fer seein’ you off like that but… _god_ Stevie, it would’ve about killed me if I hadn’t." Bucky admitted, still drinking in the sight of Steve in the dimming light.

Steve stared up at Bucky, suddenly at a loss. It wasn’t easy for Steve to believe that someone _really_ liked him, and wanted him; that someone thought he was beautiful…but Bucky sounded so sincere, so honest, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to doubt him. It was incredible, and bizarre, but Steve _believed_ him. Hesitantly, Steve reached up. Lacing his fingers behind Bucky’s neck, he drew him the rest of the way down, touching his lips tenderly to his. He was glad that the pier was quite, and mostly deserted. He was glad he was allowed to have this moment with Bucky to himself.

Their lips parted slowly, and Steve pushed himself back onto his elbows, a little smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you did,” Steve admitted, following Bucky’s movement as he eased back, allowing Steve room to sit up. “I’d…kind’a like to leave tonight off like that too if y’don’t mind…”

Bucky’s expression suddenly cracked into a grin, and he leaned in, kissing Steve briefly before drawing himself to his feet. “Night’s still young” He smirked, his tongue sliding coyly over his teeth as he dropped the smaller man a wink. “I know a great place for dancin’, and an all night diner with the best fries you’ve ever tasted.” Bucky pressed, grabbing Steve’s boney hands in his and dragging him to his feet. The blond stumbled forward, and Bucky caught him against his chest, his touch going suddenly soft as he cradled Steve’s tiny frame against his own. He reached up, his smile spreading, warm, and genuine as he tenderly caressed the other man’s cheek. “Whadd’ya say Stevie?” He breathed. “I got a city full’a places to take you, and more kisses saved up than I can count. Gimme a shot, Steve? Won’t let’ya regret it…”

Steve lifted his gaze, feeling a sudden rush of reckless delight. His head felt oddly light, his heart fluttering inside his ribcage, and a slow smirk pulled at he corners of his mouth before phasing into a grin. “I’m regretting it already. Where to first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late guys, life got a little nuts on me. Either way, here you go with a tooth-rotting amount of fluff and kisses. Enjoy, and drop me a comment to let me know what you think. :)

**Author's Note:**

> So, suggestions? I'd love to continue this for another couple chapters, but I need you guys' feedback. What do you want to see? Situations? Conversations? I'm open to consider everything at the moment.


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